Bad Boy vs Millionaire Read online

  “So, what have you told me that's true?”

  “Most of it. Except that stuff about my father. I really do have nothing. The bastard ran out on us when I was born and we've never heard from him since. But I figure chicks don't want to hear that. They want to think that I have some hope of becoming something.”

  “Like the music's not enough.”

  “It's not. Well, not if we don't make it big. I've got a few years left but then I'm just a washed up wannabe with a pile of broken dreams. We have to get to the next level or it's nothing.”

  I noticed his fingers had gone from stroking my hair to playing with my neck.

  What was I doing? I couldn't let him do that to me. It was just like before — a game to get me to do what he wanted. Once we got back home, he'd be laughing about it with Spud. How he'd fooled me again. How he’d said a few sappy things to me and I was like putty in his hands, perfectly willing to do what he wanted.

  I pushed him away, pushed him hard so he fell backwards, then I ran.

  I took off as fast I could, hoping he wouldn’t follow me. A mass of disappointment and pain built up inside me and I’d break down for sure if he kept talking. I needed to put as much distance as I could between us.

  The light had started to fade and I had no idea where I was going, just running wildly through the bush, branches scraping against my face. I thought I'd found a path but, as I ran along it, I tripped over something and fell onto my face. I cried out with the pain but there was no one to help me. I was all alone, with nothing but the cries of some animals and rustling in the bushes. That rustling noise had me jumping to my feet and running again.

  In the distance, I could see a light. It had to be the farmer's house. I ran towards it, hoping I could get home. And I'd leave Jack Colt alone to suffer.

  Chapter 29. Hannah

  The drive back from the country had been hell. I'd hoped I could charge my phone and call Tamaki to pick me up but the old lady really didn't have a phone and she sure as hell didn't have a phone charger. Then I’d thought I could get a taxi until she told me there was only one taxi in town and the taxi driver had finished for the night. What sort of town didn’t even have a taxi? How did people live in a place like that?

  She hadn't seemed very concerned that we'd been missing. Surely she must have realised we'd been away for a long time. And Jack's car was still there so she’d known we hadn't left. When I'd gotten back there though, she had just taken me inside and made me a cup of tea. I hadn't realised how cold I'd actually been until the warmth of the fire thawed my body. I wrapped my hands around the cup of tea and took big sips to fill myself up.

  “Where's the young popinjay?” she'd asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Probably still at the old house, as far as I know.”

  “I'd better go get him then. The young fool will never find his way back himself.”

  She picked up a torch and headed out across the farm. I watched from the window as the circle of light she cast got smaller and smaller then disappeared.

  While I waited, I looked around the place. It was pretty basic. Well, it had all the necessities like running water and electricity and she even had one of those clunky old TVs. Even so, she hadn't been watching it but had been listening to the radio and washing up when I'd got there.

  The musty staleness of the years permeated the place but gave it a warmth I appreciated. Old faded photos of children sat in dusty frames on the mantlepiece, some with newer photos propped up against them. Some of groups. In amongst the photos sat a few ornaments of dogs and cats that had gotten dusty over time. I picked one up but had to make sure I returned to exactly the same position so the mark didn't show in the dust.

  I wondered how I should react to Jack when he got back. I could get angry. I could be disappointed. But what would it prove? He'd made his decision and that was that. He could obviously see a future without me in it. I had to admit, objectively, it made a lot of sense. Signing with a big agency would mean a lot to them. They'd have chances I could never give them. I mean, if I were them, I’d totally make the same decision and I knew this had been coming. But it hurt. It hurt as though a big hole had been ripped through me. Not just the decision, but the way Jack had told me. As though he needed to butter me up.

  I could see the light of the woman’s torch from the window. It looked as though I had no choice but to get back to the city with him.

  In the car, in that close space with nowhere to hide, I pretended to sleep but I was covered in insect bites. No matter how much I scratched, the irritation remained. It built up into a big ball of annoyance inside of me. I scratched my arms and then I scratched my legs, but the biggest irritation of all, I couldn’t scratch. I wanted to kick something or slam doors. But all I could do was sit there and scratch.

  “Hannah, we have to talk. Please let me explain,” Jack said.

  But I turned my back to him. I didn't want to listen to his lying words again. I wondered if I could jump out of the car and hitchhike home. Even a psychopath picking me up would be better than being with him. At least a psychopath wouldn't want to talk about his reasons for being mental.

  After a few attempts, Jack gave up. There was just silence in the car and I wished he'd put some music on at least. But he stared ahead, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning against the window frame. The only noises were the hum of the engine and the swish of other car's passing and my fingernails raking my skin. Ahead of us, the road stretched forever in a straight line.

  I'd scratched my legs so much that they bled in some places. But I kept scratching. The pain of scratching at least gave some relief, and I wished I could scratch my heart until it bled too. I couldn't imagine how it would end. Would we just shake hands and say goodbye and that would be it?

  Finally, I could see the haze of lights in the distance. It wouldn't take long to get to the city. But even with all the hate and resentment building up inside of me, even with the almost unbeatable desire to punch Jack Colt in the face and keep punching until I could punch no more, some tiny corner of my heart wanted this road trip to last forever. For it to be just me and Jack Colt, driving through the night.

  As we got into the suburbs, Jack pulled up outside a shop. He got out without saying anything and I figured he probably needed more cigarettes. He’d been smoking like demon all the way home.

  I checked he couldn’t see me then opened the glove box to check for that used condom tin. I didn’t really want to touch that thing but I had a crazy need to at least shake it and see how full it was.

  There was no tin in the glove box though. I searched on the floor of the car but couldn’t see anything but a discarded burger wrapper and a couple of crushed cigarette packets.

  I’d just climbed up to check the backseat when Jack got back to the car.

  “Lost something?”

  I shook my head and sat back down, refastening my seat belt.

  “Hey, you might want this. It’ll stop that bloody scratching.’

  He handed me a paper bag with a tube of bite cream inside. I stole a glance at him but he’d started up the car and was checking the side mirror so I couldn’t read his face.

  “Thanks,” I said, realising it was the most wonderful thing anyone could’ve given me at that moment.

  He didn’t answer.

  When we got to my place, I jumped out of the car without a word. I had nothing to say to that man.

  After I had a shower and covered myself in bite cream, my phone had recharged enough for me to check my messages.

  A few from Angie with apologies for sending us to our deaths. One from Dad asking to call him back, a wrong number and a few more confirming dates for gigs.

  I didn't want to deal with all that though. I wanted sympathy and comfort and someone to tell me it was all okay. I knew where I could get it too, so I went next door to visit Tamaki.

  I told him about my day stuck in the woods.

  “You should've called me,” he said.
/>   He poured me a drink and I settled on the sofa that was pretty much the same as mine. I noticed he'd printed out a picture of Vicious and had sat it on the table.

  “My phone was flat. We called Angie but she didn't get the message until later because she was in the edit suite at her school with her phone on silent. Still, it all ended okay. Except I'm sore in every muscle from running over those bush tracks.”

  “Wait, I have something you can use.”

  He returned from the bedroom with a packet, which he opened. He took out a strip of something and removed the backing then placed it on my shoulders. It felt hot yet cold and tingling. I squirmed from the sensation.

  “Lift up your top and I'll put one on your lower back.”

  Again, I squirmed.

  “Are you sure these will work? Because they feel weird and they smell funny.”

  “They are the best. Our housekeeper used to put them on my back when I was young.”

  I smiled at Tamaki. We really were a lot alike. He'd had a housekeeper looking after him too.

  “Our housekeeper would rub stuff on my chest. Weird stuff her mother used to make. I don't know what it was but she swore by it. It always fixed me up too. What happened with your mother? Is she around?”

  Tamaki poured another drink.

  “She left, when I was young. I don't remember her much. She ran off and I haven't seen her since. She wanted a life away from my dad. He can be a bit controlling.”

  I nodded. I'd picked that up within minutes of meeting him. Still, it seemed awful that his mother had never tried to see him or get in touch.

  Tamaki took a sip of his drink and looked away. Hesitant as though he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should.

  “My father never loved her,” he said. “He was still in love with someone he'd met before her. It was very difficult for my mother.”

  “Why didn't he marry the other woman?” I asked.

  “She wasn't suitable. At that time, the woman worked in a club, the sort of club rich men went to. Of course, my father had to marry the right kind of woman. He was trying to establish himself and he needed the right connections. My mother had those connections. “

  “It must have been hard for your mother.”

  Tamaki shook his head.

  “It was never meant to be a marriage of love though. She should not have left. She failed in her duty to my father.”

  “Do you miss your mother?” I asked.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes I catch a smell of a perfume and that reminds me of her. She would come in my room to tuck me in and that perfume she wore would linger. I think she left Japan. Maybe she had to and she can't come back. Because of my father. He was so very angry when she left.”

  “The smell of cookies sometimes makes me think of my mother. She would always be baking. I loved the taste of those cookies. I've never tasted anything like them since.”

  I sighed.

  “My mother never made me cookies. Not that I can remember. Sometimes the housekeeper made them for me. But all the other kids, their mothers made them bento for lunch. Have you seen the bento for kids? They are amazing with pictures made out of food and decorated with things like carrots cut into hearts. I never had a bento made by mother.”

  When he said that, I wanted to do something. Stroke his hair or hold his hand. Something to make him feel better. He didn't say anything but I could imagine a young Tamaki, deserted by his mother and left all alone. How he'd have cried out in the night and there would’ve been no one to comfort him. How he'd looked have around on sports days at school for someone in the crowd but there'd been no one or maybe an employee but not family. How he'd have had to keep things inside and be strong, stronger than anyone.

  They were the things I’d felt too. I put my hand over his and wanted to tell him I understood but, when I looked into his eyes, I knew I didn’t need to use words. That bond, it was there. It made sense how he was so weird and possessive at times and how he’d been so upset about Vicious. It wasn’t about both being rich, it was about us both having grown up with the same burden. I’d never have to explain my pain to Tamaki – and I’d never have it dismissed or laughed at because rich people aren’t supposed to have pain.

  “My mother died when I was young,” I said. “My father never married again. I wonder if things would have been different if she'd been alive. If my father would have been more normal.”

  Tamaki nodded.

  “I guess you'll never know. Your father rang me today. He wanted me to tell you to get in touch with him if I saw you. Have you heard from him?”

  I nodded. I'd got the message but I hadn't called him back. There was no point calling him just yet. I had something I wanted to do, and if I could do it, then I'd call him. Hopefully, that would make everything right.

  I slipped off my shoes and put my feet up on the couch.

  “Your poor legs,” Tamaki said, running his fingers over the insect bites. “But you shouldn't have scratched them.”

  I shrugged. My legs looked awful though. All covered in red and swollen spots, with grazes from the bushes making lines across them.

  “That man should've protected you.”

  “Tamaki, about the engagement…”

  A look of anxiety flitted over his face but he replaced it with a smile.

  “… if you still want to go through with it, then yes. Yes, I'll marry you.”

  Chapter 30. Hannah

  “What would Tamaki be doing at the management company?” I asked Angie. I wasn't saying she was lying but it just seemed so strange.

  “I have no idea. Why don't you ask him? What kind of work does he do anyway?”

  I grabbed a CD from the pile on the table and copied an address from my list to the envelope then folded a note from the band and sealed it, adding it to the growing pile on the floor.

  “They are mainly into exports. A few other things too. It's a huge company.” To be honest, both Tamaki and Ichiro had been a bit vague about their company and even vaguer about how they wanted to join forces with my father.

  “Well, obviously, since he's filthy rich. You don't get filthy rich with a small company. Maybe they are into band management too?”

  Angie looked up from the note she was folding.

  “Why would a big company like that be into music management? They have much bigger fish to fry. Like massive fish. I don't know that there would be enough money in music management, especially a management company in another country, to make it worth their while.”

  “Well, it was for your dad, right?”

  Yeah, it had been. After all, he'd owned the company that managed Storm until he'd signed it over to me. It was weird though, why would my dad even have a band management company that he never did anything with? Apparently, originally it'd been to sign up a couple of his friends who had bands. Right at the start, before he even had too much money. But then why did he sign up Storm? If you had a neglected management company, why would you sign a band you had no intention of promoting? He hadn't signed anyone else to the company in like 20 years.

  I sighed and realised I hadn’t included the note from the band in the last parcel I’d sealed. I ran my fingernail along the edge to reopen it. You had to keep your wits about you to do that.

  “Okay, you have a point. It is suspicious. I'll ask Tamaki about it tonight. Are we still going ahead with the video, even though those nasty betrayers have betrayed me?”

  “We should. If the guys want to, of course. I'm not even sure if they are going to sign to the new management group. Eric isn't so keen. And can they do that? Legally, I mean? They have a contract with you.”

  I sighed. I'd thought about this a lot.

  “If they want to do it, I'm not going to stop them. I don't think it's worth trying to force them to stay on with me, is it? It'd be awful, knowing that they didn't want to do it.”

  Angie looked at the ring shining on my finger but she didn't say anything. I put my hand in my lap.
/>   “Still, they could be a whole lot more grateful. You sorted out the tour deal for them and you have done so much work. It's not like they would have even been offered the Blainsley contract if you hadn't got their attention.”

  I shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. It didn't really matter now.

  “This is all Spud's doing. You can bet your life on that. He's such a misogynist. And Jack is stupid for listening to him.”

  Angie had told me all about their night out and how Jack and Spud were reunited.

  “How did you know Eric isn’t keen anyway?”

  Angie blushed. I swear she blushed. Her cheeks turned a definite pink that you could see even under the layers of makeup she wore.

  “I was talking to him last night. He's convinced Jack to wait a few days, to think things over.”

  “Oh, talking to him or 'talking' to him.”

  “Just talking. We can talk, can't we? It's not like we can't talk.”

  I arched my brow. Everyone knows there's talking and then there's talking. But at least I'd taken Angie's attention away from that ring on my finger before she started asking about that.

  “Anyway, if you do shoot the clip, you can count me out. I am not going back to that place ever again. It was so awful. I thought I'd die there.”

  “Seriously, you were like 10 minutes’ walk away from the farmhouse. It's not like you were stranded in the middle of nowhere. And I'm sure that woman would have gone looking for you eventually.”

  “You don't understand…”

  I focused on the envelope I was stuffing, hammering it shut with the side of my fist. I didn't want to put it into words but Angie should've guessed that the reason it was hell was because Jack Colt was there. All that emotional shit, ick.

  “It's not like you'd need to be there anyway. I mean, it'd be more fun with you but we could film the clip without you.”